Starts With A Bang
by Tinymac12
Summary: What if Vernon were to snap? What if his desperation for normalcy drove him to madness. If not only Harry Potter is magical, but also Dudley, could Vernon keep it together?


Author's Note:  
So this story was just a thought that popped into my head. I haven't seen a lot of stories about it but what if Dudley was actually magical. I wonder if Vernon could handle it. With that thought I imagined a kind of scenario how it might play out. Now right now this is just a prologue, but if people show interest I might pick up the pen and actually write it out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.  
-Tiny

I slowed down as I pulled up to my destination. As packed as the road was, I was able to pull over and park. I grabbed the umbrella from the passenger seat and faced the light rain that was prevalent tonight. I marched up to the door and didn't even bother to knock. Why should I, no one's paying attention. As I place my hand on the door handle I see Howard talking to the neighbors. He always seems so eager to meet new people. Regardless of the circumstances. I push open the door and like always, the first thing that hit me was the smell. Dear God why did it have to be like this? I close the door to the darkness and shake off the umbrella. I venture towards the voices and flashes of light.

I see Constable Simmons crouched down taking a few photos and taking notes. She's a good girl. Received top marks in her school and training. Just recently joined the force. I wish this didn't have to be her first case. "Can tell me what happened here Claire?" I could see it in her eyes already. This was going to be a long night. She slowly put down her camera and walked be back to the entrance. I didn't notice it before, but the smell was better over here.

She glanced at her notes. Even though there's no way she hadn't already ingrained every detail about this case into her mind. She's like that. "It seems there was a struggle and the man we identified as one Vernon Dursley, shot his wife Petunia. Sometime before or after, we're not sure, he fired several shots at his son and nephew. They've both already been transported. And it looks like Mr. Dursley then committed suicide. Past that we don't know. Constable Howard is out trying to find if there was ever any disturbances or reason for this. He'll know more by now." She glanced back down at her notes. No doubt trying to hide the tears in her eyes. For me, even though it's totally fucked, I have no tears to cry. The question still stands:

Who shoots his own kid and family?

"You're right. I do have more answers." Howard claims as he walks towards the sitting area we're in. I never even heard him open the door. I stand up to greet my friend. "Well?"

"Right. So, the man, Mr. Dursley, was always a bit of a drinker. Whenever there was a community social, you could be sure by the end of it he had to be escorted home by his wife. It also appears that there was a bit of bad blood between the Dursleys and the nephew Harry Potter. Even though he lives with them ever since his own parents' deaths, the neighbors say that all he does is work in the Dursley yard."

"Howard, that could just mean the boy plays games inside all day. Or reads. It hardly says he hated him." I couldn't imagine what Howard was trying to implicate.

"You didn't let me finish detective. At those same social events, Mr. Dursley tended to get a little loose lipped on matters inside his home. He claimed that Mr. Potter was nothing but a troubled child that needed to be repeatedly put in his place. He claimed that the only thing he was good for was freeing up Mrs. Petunia from doing tedious chores. And lastly, there used to be quite a few noise complaints a few years back. Screams sir. Child screams... Sir, I ... I think ... or rather I'm fairly certain, they treated the boy like a slave." Howard calmly declared.

That was a rare occurrence for anyone to see. For even though Howard never climbed the ranks like myself, he had still been on as long as I have. I could count the times he stumbled over his words on one hand. He truly believed what he said. Dear God! What if it's true?

I noticed that Simmons suddenly seemed uncomfortable. I turned to her and asked, "Are you alright Claire?" She stood up and gestured for me and Howard to do the same. "I wasn't sure before Jack, but, there's something you need to see." She walked back towards that horrible dining room. The stench getting stronger with each step. But then she stopped in front of cupboard before the door. Thank God. I really didn't want to go back in there. That is, until she opened the cupboard.

At first I thought that maybe this was where a pet lived. A small dog or cat perhaps. No. That didn't make sense. There was a bed; small for sure, but it's still a bed. And there were a pair of glasses too. I couldn't grasp what I was seeing, "Claire, what am I..." and then it hit me. He lived here. The boy actually lived in this...filth. No doubt that smell was from stains of past humiliations. What circle of hell did I walk into?!

And here I thought it couldn't get any worse. How wrong I was.

* * *

"What do you mean they're going to go live with that monster!?" She shouted at me. As she should. "As I said Claire. The judge ruled that while she has a few rough edges, the boys deserve to go be with family and out of the system."

"I don't give a damn what that judge says! I can't let this happen. You were there when we interviewed her! She thinks Harry did it!" Her eyes red from tears and lack of sleep. I knew this decision was coming.

"I agree with you that Ms. Dursley doesn't deserve to even be allowed out on the streets. But the powers that be seem to think that she is the best option for the boys. You know you aren't supposed to get emotionally involved with cases Claire. It's part of the regulations." Even if I don't believe they apply in this case. I rubbed my temples. "We have to trust the system."

"I don't know if I can." She softly said. She went to hand me her badge. I caught her hand and closed her fingers back around the shiny piece of metal.

"You are strong Claire. Much stronger than many people I've known. Why don't you just take some time off." I pleaded with my eyes. We needed people who looked at crimes as more than just statistics and victims. We needed to be able to see humanity. If there was anything I've learned from this job, it's that no matter how tough you think you are, seeing a child of only 7 being wheeled out of surgery without an arm will rip you apart. We needed people who weren't desensitized. Claire was my departments conscience.

"...fine. But I would like it noted formally that I oppose this decision." She replaced her badge in pocket and walked out.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. I put my head in my hands and prayed, "God, if you're there. Those boys could sure use a miracle. And if there's no God, then fate, destiny, or karma, please. Help them." As I brought my head up a few minutes later I could've sworn I saw a woman with red hair disappear. I closed my eyes tight and opened them. Nothing there. I shake my head and look at the clock. "Of course it's 3 in the morning." I grab my keys and open my office door. As I stepped out I felt a cool breeze on my neck. "Damn drafts." I lock the door and bring my scarf around me tighter. It's time to go home. I turn the key in the ignition and my old junker starts with a bang.


End file.
